red plastic party cups
by autumns
Summary: "...because Peter is right there, and their friends have their backs turned and it's hot and they're close and the drink in his hand is boiling." spideynova, part 1/2


There's a party somewhere.

When he gets there, there's pounding, ear-throbbing music and lots of warm bodies grinding against each other. Everything smells and looks like the color brown. He gets pushed and tossed against numerous amounts of drunken individuals in the middle of the yard where everyone's dancing, and emerges on the other side with the smell of alcohol burning his nose. A guy with a full on beard passes him with a six pack slung over his shoulder. He reeks of alcohol. Sam is pretty sure that the guy isn't from their school.

The others were here, too. MJ was dancing with Luke, of all people. Ava and Danny were chatting by the makeshift punch table, which was really just an old card table with some grungy cloth thrown over it and snacks on top. Sam hasn't seen Harry yet - he might have gone out or something, or maybe he didn't reach yet - but he's bound to show up sooner or later. And that just leaves Parker. Peter, who's in the corner of the yard on a ratty deck chair chewing on a pen with a textbook in his lap.

At the corner of the dance floor, Sam shakes his head at the brown-eyed nerd. _Leave it to Webs to bring his homework to a party._

"Hey." Peter visibly jumps. The pen dangles out of his mouth and the textbook falls out of his lap. For a moment, even Sam is surprised - when did he even get here? He doesn't remember walking over.

"Dude, you scared the _crap_ out of me," Peter sits up and leans over for his book, and his hair falls into his eyes. He sits back up. "Do _not_ sneak up on me while I'm reading, got it? I gotta draw the line somewhere with you."

There's that wry tone he always uses, the one Sam knows he reserves just for him. "What, there wasn't a line before?"

"Sadly, no." Peter crosses his arms over his plaid shirt. The corners of his mouth turn upward in a cocky smile, because they both know they're in for some kind of debate soon.

"You sure?" says Sam, "'Cause I thought I kept crossing it. It was kind of my goal."

"Wow, moonboy. How considerate."

For some reason, the music seems louder. Sam smiles and points to the vacant chair to Peter's left. "Can I sit here?"

"Sure."

He doesn't realize how uncomfortable the lawn chair is until he actually seats himself.

Sam squirmed in the hard, plastic chair. "God, this is terrible. How the hell have you been in that chair for an hour?"

"No idea." Peter flips a page in his textbook, which he had already gotten back to. "The reading is a distraction, I guess."

Peter's full attention is on the book now, and a moment of silence passes between. Sam keeps shifting and squirming to the point of thinking that sitting next to his crush isn't worth the price of this chair.

Frustrated, Sam suddenly springs to his feet, and he's already turning and reaching down towards Peter before his brain even knows what he's doing. He pushes the book down out of Peter's face, and for a moment, his brain utters a frantic _what the hell _and Peter's looking at him with this _why did you do that _look and no part of Sam's body has any idea what to do.

His mouth speaks for him.

"Dance with me." At that, green eyes meet blue.

Peter's mouth is ajar as he looks at the hand being offered to him, and Sam starts losing his patience.

"Oh _come on,_ Parker. Get your head out the damn book and dance already."

Peter glares at him. Then he takes his hand.

Sam leads him to the dance floor. He didn't mean to hold Peter's hand the whole way there (he was supposed to let go like, what, two minutes ago?) but that's what happened, and he's not in the least against it. Peter doesn't even question it.

As soon as they step into the throng of grinding teens, they're immersed in the smell of sweat and alcohol. There are limbs and hips everywhere. Sam turns around to face Peter, who looks a little rattled at all the energy and liveliness around them, and he can't help but crack a smug grin.

"Having fun?" he yells.

Peter makes a face. Someone pushes him to the side. "What?"

Sam rolls his eyes and steps in close. Peter visibly tenses, and tries to take a step back, but space is tight. Someone's dancing behind him, and it just ends up pushing him closer.

He doesn't know what the hell Peter thinks he's about to do, but Sam notes as he approaches him that his face is red and that he looks even more frazzled than before. Sam leans in, and his lips brush Peter's ear. "Come on, Webhead."

Just like that, Peter's hand slips into his, and he leads them further into the mass.

And then somehow, they're dancing.

It was hot and sweaty and contactual and sensational. By the time they're halfway through it, Sam doesn't have a clue what time it is and he feels dizzy even though he didn't drink. All he can think is that he's actually _touching_ Peter, and that being pressed so close to him feels good, and that the way he smiles makes the world tip over and that it's all so warm and fuzzy and great and crazy at the same time. And when the music picks up, everyone's jumping up and down, and Peter grabs his hand and jumps with him and it makes him feel _good._

And then it's over somehow.

They're back in the corner by the lawn chairs. His brain is trying to register what the hell is going on, and he lazily turns to see Peter's textbook discarded in the grass at the foot of the chair. Sam has literally no recollection of even getting back here, and when he tries to stand, his head is pounding, and it's not the music. He falls back down into the chair, and he swears he hears the sound of footsteps crunching over grass as he groans and accidentally knocks something over, which falls to the ground with a metallic clang.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands find his shoulders. "Sam, you okay?"

Sam blinks and looks up. There's Peter again. His brown hair is slightly disheveled and half the buttons on his shirt are unbuttoned. His brown eyes are brimming with worry.

"I, uh...I'm - I'm fine. When'd we even get off the…?"

Peter glances over his shoulder at the now smaller group of dancing young adults. "A while back, man. Are you sure you're okay? I can take you inside and see if there's somebody who ca- "

"I'm fine, Pete." He says, his words more insistent. He looks straight into his eyes. Peter still has his hand on his shoulders, and he gives Sam an assessing look. Sam refuses to break eye contact.

After a few seconds, Peter's eyes dart away. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure." He lets go of his shoulders and sits at the edge of the chair to his right. "Just don't come crawling to me when you have a hangover in training tomorrow."

Sam's about to ask _what the hell does that mean _before he sits up and his feet hit something on the ground. The entire backyard threatens to tip over. He tries to ignore the hammering in his head and looks down towards the grass at the thing stepped on, and sees a beer can. It landed on a pile of three.

Just looking at it makes him feel sick to his stomach. "Oh God…"

Peter's a little too smug about it. "Underaged drinking. What would Fury say?"

He eyes the beer can sitting next to Peter's chair with probing eyes. "What about Aunt May?"

Spidey glared at him for what wasn't the first time that night. "Shut up, space dweeb."

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, the two of them are leaning on the fence in the corner by the chairs as the awkward slow dancing starts to commence on the dance floor.<p>

Apparently, Sam's a surprisingly sober drunk. The only thing he has to suffer is a headache that dulls down as long as he doesn't touch the punch. Despite his refusal to drink again, the weird dizzy feeling is spreading from his head to his chest - and it isn't the beer.

Sam is next to Peter, who's holding a red party cup and watching the contents slosh around. They're under a blanket of shining stars and gleaming galaxies that he's probably been to but can't remember the names of. Back on earth, the party starts winding down when whoever is controlling the music puts on some lame, cheesy slow song, which results in a lot of people stepping off of the floor. Some people even left. Now there's only a few dozen couples leftover, eating the remains on the snack table, daring the slow dance, and chatting it up by the house in hushed tones.

Sam looks up at the stars again, and Peter says something to him.

He looks at the contents in his cup. "Hey - you're surprisingly quiet. Which is like, extremely weird for some reason?" It sounds like a question. "I actually think I prefer you talking."

Sam cracks a smile. He doesn't say anything as Peter waits for him to answer. After what might have been a full minute, Peter glances up at him and sees his smile before giving him a shove that almost knocks him over.

"_Hey! _ You were supposed to talk back to me, buckethead!"

He nearly trips and falls. "_Geez, _Webs - take it easy on the super strength, will you?"

"Quiet down, for God's sake - or better yet, shut up," says Peter as he quickly looks away. His cheeks are glowing a faint red. The feeling in Sam's chest begins to blossom.

"Yeah, well, lucky for you, there's no shutting me up. The Sam station's on air 24/7."

"Oh...well, in that case, I take back what I said."

"Rude." Sam stuck out his tongue at Peter before nudging him in the side with his arm. "Just for that, I'm not shutting up anytime soon. In fact, I feel a rant coming on."

"Oh _God."_

"You, Peter Parker, are by far the _lamest, rudest, corniest - "_

"Sam."

" - Most _unappealing,_ revolting, _drab - "_

Peter glares at him again, but it's somewhat halfhearted. "_Sam."_

" - Disgusting, vilest, cutest nerd _ever."_ He finishes with a laugh, nudging Peter in the side again. "Aw, come on, Webs. Don't take it personall- "

"Wait." Peter holds up a hand to stop him. "Do you see that?" He points towards the dance floor. For a second, Sam was miffed, because he wasted his time calling this stupid loser _cute,_ but his gaze follows Peter's finger to a couple slow dancing in the center of the yard. He nearly laughs at what he sees.

"Ava and Danny," Peter breaths, shaking his head in disbelief. "Who would have thought?"

Sam makes a face. "Gross. If they ever have a kid, he'd be the smartest fortune cookie ever."

Peter snorts at his response. "I don't know whether I should laugh or barf."

"Preferably not barf."

"Agreed."

* * *

><p>The party is about to end.<p>

Almost everyone had left. Probably twenty or so people hung around after two a.m.. Peter's by the snack table talking to the others, and Sam waits for him in the corner with a close to empty red cup in his hand. He's mentally beating himself up because he can't believe what a waste tonight was. He spent the entire time just talking and dancing instead of actually trying to make a move. _Stupid, Sam, stupid._

Some burly, popular kids from school that he doesn't really know very well pass by him and leave through the gate to his right, laughing in a drunken stupor. Sam waits by the gate for what seems like forever, seeing Peter laugh with the others. He would go over and speak to them too if he didn't want this night to end yet. He wants just one more moment, so he waits for Peter, the feeling in his stomach turning and somersaulting as Parker sends a glance in his direction before taking a few steps towards him.

Sam walks towards Peter and meets him halfway.

"Hey," says Peter with a sideways smile. He's a bit close. There's plenty of yard around them and no one pushing them around like when they were dancing earlier. Sam decides he likes this better.

"Hi," says Sam. His heart is pounding, and not his head this time. He somehow manages to take a step closer to the tall, cute boy in front of him.

He could do it right now. The temperature seems to blaze at a hundred degrees when Peter looks at him and licks his lips. Sam prays to God that he isn't blushing as much as he feels he is and that he doesn't make a bad decision, because Peter's _right there, _and their friends have their backs turned, and its hot, and they're _really, really close_, and the drink in his hand is boiling.

Before he can do anything, Peter does it for him.

He has about five seconds of bliss. In those few, fleeting seconds, Peter's mouth is on his, and they're actually kissing, and it's not exactly how Sam thought it would be, but he's not complaining. He kisses back almost immediately and closes his eyes. Peter's mouth tastes almost as sharp as his, seeing how they had both been drinking. He feels hands on his hips and leans in a little more, trying to deepen it as he feels Peter's tongue meet his own, and all he can think on is how _hot _it is around them before one of them realizes what they're doing and Peter slowly pulls away.

They look at each other, both taking breaths with each others taste on their lips.

Peter looks like he has no idea why he just did what he did. His eyes are wide, and his cheeks are red. He's still close to him. Still has his hands on Sam's hips. "I…"

A flash of confusion passes over Peter's features, and immediately, Sam knows that something's wrong. His heart still pounding, he takes a step out of Peter's embrace, and for a second, Peter reaches out for him but sways to the right. Sam squints at the other boy. _He's off balance._ Something is definitely wrong.

Peter steadies himself and stands upright again, but he's still listing to the side. "Sam - "

"You're drunk," it comes to him quickly, almost painfully. _Is that why he kissed him? Is that the only reason?_

Peter takes another step, almost falling. "N-No! Sam, _listen_ to me - "

His lips are burning. His head is pounding. Sam's heart beats faster than ever. "_Shut up,_ Peter. You don't even know what you're saying."

"God, just - " Peter reels around like he doesn't even know where he is. "...Just listen to me, Sam - "

Sam turns. He dashes out of the yard, hearing Peter call his name in his drunken state, and he hears laughter as their friends keep drinking somewhere off behind them. He doesn't know where to go until he sees the front steps of the house and sits down. He puts his head in his hands, which is pounding almost as loudly as the music.

"_Sam."_ Peter calls again from the backyard, his voice breaking. He sounds a lot farther away than he actually is, but Sam doesn't care.

At the end of the night, he's left with nothing but a pair of puffy, just-kissed lips, a pounding head, and the pieces of his own broken heart.

And when Aunt May asks how the party was when he gets home, he tells her that he lost something permanent.

* * *

><p><strong>idk what i just wrote but i like it. and also i started shipping this mostly because i was trapped at some party on thanksgiving and i didnt want to be there so i read spideynova fanfics whoops<strong>

**i might write a sequel but idk...probably way later though**

**hope u enjoyed! uwu**


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